


Wicked Games

by orphan_account



Category: Shin Sangokumusou | Dynasty Warriors, Sān guó yǎn yì | Romance of the Three Kingdoms - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhong Hui never thought he'd ever feel bad for Wang Yuanji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Games

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really bad with summaries and tagging things properly is my kryptonite.

Zhong Hui never said he cared much for his lord’s wife – in fact he knew Wang Yuanji didn’t particularly care for him all that much either, and so it wasn’t very hard to make the feeling mutual. It was difficult for Zhong Hui to stand in the same room as her and it was just as hard for Wang Yuanji to listen to anything he had to say (and take it seriously). But recent sleepless nights has him wondering if perhaps she hated the fact her husband had been spending night after night in his room. He’d been beginning to think about when Sima Zhao last spent a night with his wife, and if she even knew what they were doing.

He doesn’t know _why_ these thoughts have plagued him as of late. Perhaps it’s because he knows how it feels to be alone; to be left behind by someone you thought you loved and someone you thought loved you. But perhaps he was thinking too much about it; he _knows_ he’s thinking too much about it. He hoped empathy was not the case, because feeling empathetic towards Wang Yuanji was the absolute last thing he wanted.

On this particular night Zhong Hui folds his blanket neatly onto his bed and rearranges his pillow, exhausted after a long day. He’s about to crawl in and get comfortable but he hears the subtle cracking of the floorboards behind him; normally Zhong Hui’s muscles tense up in alarming defense but now he’s gotten used to these unexpected – and untimely – visits from his lord. He lets out a sigh as his lord wraps his arms around his waist tightly, pulling him so close Zhong Hui can hear his excited heart beat tapping against his back. “Lord Sima Zhao,” he greets the man behind him, and then looks down at the floor, more interested in watching the dust feather across the wooden planks than engage his lord.

“Good evening, were you busy?” The Sima lord whispers low into his ear and wastes no time in trailing his hand down Zhong Hui’s body. His fingers slide across the general’s stomach and he circles his fingers around the edge of fabric there. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it, he’s done this so many times before.

“I was about to go to sleep, yes.” Zhong Hui replies at the ground, grabbing Sima Zhao by the wrist before his hand traveled too far. “Are you here for business or for your own entertainment?” He knows the answer but hopes for an unexpected answer to take him by surprise.

But as usual, Sima Zhao only kisses his neck and Zhong Hui can feel, but not see, him grin mischievously. “What do you think? Business, _of course_. My kind of business.” Zhong Hui rolls his eyes but allows himself to be seated on his bed, with Sima Zhao quickly climbing over him. Zhong Hui leans back on his elbows as his lord sits back to hungrily drink in the sight of his young advisor laid out underneath him, and Zhong Hui can almost hear the fabric of his lord’s pants tug against his already-hardening arousal.

He’s not really sure why he starts thinking about it now, and he hopes it is not his lord’s heat that throws these thoughts in his head, but suddenly Zhong Hui can’t get Wang Yuanji out of his mind. He imagines her lying in the giant bed she should be sharing with her husband, alone and unable to sleep. He wonders if her husband’s absence bothers her, and if his presence here upsets her.

Sima Zhao leans in and starts to kiss him, but Zhong Hui pulls away, turning his head to the side and tries to avoid eye contact. Sima Zhao smiles at him reassuringly, “Hey come on, it will be good for you too,” He says and goes in to kiss his advisor again, but Zhong Hui forces his head back a second time to avoid it. The Sima lord sighs loudly but doesn’t back off. “Okay,” he says, “What is it?” His voice is laden with a sudden frustration and Zhong Hui hopes his next words do not offend him further.

“I think you should be with your wife tonight.” Zhong Hui says after some hesitation, sliding himself up away from his lord. Sima Zhao raises his eyebrows then but otherwise doesn’t move and Zhong Hui thinks he’s about to burst out in laughter. Where did he find humor in this? It almost angered Zhong Hui that his lord couldn’t take his marriage seriously, especially when Zhong Hui _knows_ he put so much extra time and effort into pleasing her.

But then again, Zhong Hui wasn’t sure why _he_ was angry about this.

“What? Where is this coming from?” His lord finally sits back and watches the general try to find his words. The feeling of being lost for words and unable to string together a properly structured sentence even with all his expertise makes Zhong Hui extremely uncomfortable. He’s better than this, he thinks, he _knows_ he’s better than this. He didn’t come all this way to fall short while in bed with a _Sima_. But Sima Zhao seems to be the only person who can successfully make him feel like such a (dare he say it) _commoner_ –stripped of all privilege and education and _dignity_ and held only for carnal needs – at this point if this were to be his fate, Zhong Hui would much rather have Sima Zhao make him his _consort_ (of all things!). Even such a title would rank him higher than he’d been feeling night after night sleeping beside his lord.

But the horrifying image of publicizing their relationship as Sima Zhao's consort terrorizes Zhong Hui. And so he tries. “When was the last time you’ve spent a night with her?” It’s not particularly what he wanted to say and not exactly what he was thinking but he settles with it for now.

Sima Zhao studies the boy’s face for a long moment, trying to make sure this wasn’t a giant joke; perhaps one that Yuanji set up. “You’re serious right now?” The older man doesn’t seem to understand and Zhong Hui isn’t sure if it’s because he _can’t_ understand or _won’t_ understand.

“Do I ever joke with you, my lord?”

Sima Zhao continues to watch the young general until Zhong Hui forces himself away from making eye contact and plasters his gaze to the corner of the bed. Finally Sima Zhao breaks the silence: “She’ll understand,” he says with a smile, and leaves it at that.

“I wouldn’t.” Zhong Hui says almost immediately. He’s not sure where these sudden words are coming from and he’s not sure when he’d mustered up the nerve to say such a thing. At the same time, he’s not sure when he became afraid of Sima Zhao. It was never like this before; Zhong Hui had never been so mindful of his tongue around his lord before. He tells himself he isn’t afraid because there’s no way Sima Zhao could ever frighten him and Zhong Hui was so confident in the fact that Sima Zhao was nothing like his brother, and never _could_ be anything like his brother.

When did he start believing that, anyway?

But Sima Zhao only laughs, leaning forward and shoving Zhong Hui down onto the bed. He smiles charmingly with his arms on both sides of his young advisor to box him in, and Zhong Hui’s heart beats faster almost immediately. “Well it’s a good thing I’m not married to you, then.” he says. Zhong Hui feels his pulse pounding in his ears, the thumping force of his heartbeat rendering his breathing increasingly jagged. Sima Zhao returns to kiss him again, pinning him down with his weight so that Zhong Hui isn’t able to move away from him again, and it’s enough to send Zhong Hui into an overwhelming wave of anxiety, reminded of similar situations with disastrous endings. The younger man grabs his lord by the shoulders and makes an attempt to shove him away and off him but Sima Zhao is much stronger, and much thicker, than he is.

“Stop!” Zhong Hui says just before Sima Zhao reclaims his lips once more, but he feels the Sima lord’s lips curve into a smile, amused by the resistance, and that only makes Sima Zhao want to play more.

“Come on Shiji, I told you it’ll be good for you too.” Sima Zhao circles his hips against Zhong Hui’s once, “I know how you like it.” Zhong Hui absolutely _loathes_ these words, but right now he can only hear the intense pounding of his heart in his ears as his lord’s actions bring back a flood of old memories – reminders of Sima Shi that Zhong Hui thought (hoped) would have died with him.

“Stop! Stop stop stop stop…!” Zhong Hui repeats at an alarming rate and starts shoving Sima Zhao back until finally, noticing the developing panic in the general’s voice, Sima Zhao backs off.

“What? What what what? What’s going on?” He asks and Zhong Hui isn’t sure if he’s asking out of concern, curiosity, or frustration. But Zhong Hui can’t answer, can’t even look at the man in his bed and he rolls to the side and tries to steady the rapid throbbing in his chest causing his ragged breathing. “Shiji?”

When Zhong Hui feels he can speak again, he turns his gaze to his lord, glaring viciously at the man. “Don’t…don’t look at me! Stop looking at me!”

“I’m only trying to figure out what the hell is going on right now.”

“As if you can’t already figure that out.” Zhong Hui looks away and scoffs. “You’re just like your brother.”

“What?” Sima Zhao seems angered by this comment and he’s not sure why. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re just like your brother! You’re not any better than him!” Sima Zhao instinctively raises his hand to what Zhong Hui thinks is to strike him, and he sits up immediately and pushes himself as far away from Sima Zhao as possible. “Don’t…! Don’t you dare or you’ll be exactly like him!” Zhong Hui’s words fall out of his mouth so quickly that Sima Zhao has to think about what he said for a moment, and then lowers his arm.

“I wasn’t-- I wasn’t going to…”

Zhong Hui slowly catches his breath and grips the bed sheets beneath him. They sit in silence for a long while before Zhong Hui steps out of bed. “I think you should go,” He says quietly, “My lord.” He hastily adds, and turns his back and waits to hear him leave the room.

There’s a silence, and then he hears shuffling and heavy footsteps on the wooden flooring, but they don’t seem to be heading towards the door. Instead they creak towards him and just before Zhong Hui can turn around Sima Zhao’s arms are around him again. This time the younger general jumps and has enough time to protest for a short moment once more before Sima Zhao’s hand clamps around his mouth uncomfortably.

“Shhhh, shh shh calm down,” the Sima Lord whispers echo gently in his ear, “it’s okay, you know I’d never hurt you.” Zhong Hui grips the older man’s wrists to pry him off but right now he can’t seem to find the strength to remove him. “Shhh don’t worry, I’m not like him, I promise.” Zhong Hui is certain his lord can feel his heartbeat speeding up again. His breath quickens beneath his lord’s fingers.

Zhong Hui attempts to squirm out of his grasp but that only makes Sima Zhao hold onto him even more. “Hey, hey just relax okay, relax I’m not here to hurt you. You know I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” He continues to whisper his sweet reassurances in Zhong Hui’s ear, slipping his fingers up the fabric of Zhong Hui’s shirt and soothingly petting the skin at his waist.  It makes him nervous, and Zhong Hui tries to speak and attempts to move his lips underneath his lord’s hand but he can’t form words and all that come out are small noises, quiet pleas to release him; Zhong Hui would never admit to them being submissive.

But Sima Zhao isn’t concerned about what Zhong Hui is trying to say and instead he rests his head on the younger man’s shoulder and nuzzles his face into his neck. “Please don’t worry. I’ll be good to you, I’ll be good to you,” he repeats as if to convince, to coax, Zhong Hui to relax.

Somehow, it starts to work, and Zhong Hui isn’t really sure how but his heartbeat slows to a normal pace and his muscles relax and he feels…comfortable? When Sima Zhao feels the boy’s body is no longer tense he begins to let go as slowly as he possibly can, sliding his arms against Zhong Hui's body as he does so. He turns the general around to face him and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. “That’s right, it’s okay. Let me protect you, okay?”

Zhong Hui doesn’t answer him. He can’t; there are no words for what he’s feeling and no amount of his special training could ever try to even _create_ words for it. Sima Zhao reaches up and brushes a stray hair away from his advisor’s face, noticing the small flinch when his hand moves towards his face. “I won’t hurt you,” he says again and cups the boy’s cheek in his palm. It’s taking everything Zhong Hui has not to run away, run away from all of this – from his lord, from this land, from everything, where no one will possibly find him and he’d start anew somewhere else. No one would ever tell him what to do and no one would ever make him do anything, and he would be okay on his own. He would be okay.

But Sima Zhao’s touch is gentle and familiar, and it starts to draw him in again. His lord leans in and slowly kisses his face – he kisses his forehead, and when Zhong Hui closes his eyes he kisses both eyelids, soft and slow. He kisses the tip of his nose, both cheeks, and then hovers over his mouth, brushing his lips over Zhong Hui’s so gently it causes the young general’s tired heart to skip a beat. Sima Zhao presses his lips onto the younger man’s agonizingly slow, reaching around to rest his hand on the back of his advisor's head and holding him there, kissing him until he knows he’s broken down the very last of Zhong Hui’s defenses. The kiss is soft, deliberate, and cruel, and Zhong Hui can’t run away.

Zhong Hui’s thoughts bring him back to Wang Yuanji, and at that moment he decides that it is, in fact, empathy he’d been feeling, and he knows he’s allowing himself to fall right back into Sima Zhao’s trap. He’s never been so aware.

He knows he shouldn’t and he knows he can’t, but for what feels to be the thousandth time in a row that doesn’t stop him and he leans into the kiss anyway.

 


End file.
